


Without Losing Myself

by thewriterpoe



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterpoe/pseuds/thewriterpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin like Taemin. A lot. And he doesn't know how to handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Losing Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Pretty Boy Taekai fanfiction exchange.

7pm

 

      Jongin is watching Taemin intensely and he has to remember to take a breath. The older boy is sitting on the windowsill; his lithe legs close to his chest, his left eye brow cocked upward in disapproval of the words he is reading, his nose is crunched up, and there's the tiniest of scowls on his wet lips. The dying sunlight is streaming through his bleached blond hair, crowning him in halo. The sight is enough to stop a heartbeat. At least, Jongin tells himself, he doesn’t feel tightness in his chest as though cold hands are squeezing his heart. At least, he thinks, he doesn’t feel the crushing weight of missing Taemin even though he’s right there with him.

      Jongin doesn’t know when he started having these feelings of saturation and suffocation about his best friend. When he admitted to himself that his feelings towards the other were more than friendly, he thought the pressure in his chest would ease but it only gets stronger and he’s not sure he likes it. He dares not tell Taemin about these new feelings even though he knows Taemin wouldn’t judge him. Instead he just waits for the feelings to die out. But sometimes he wonders if Taemin knows from the way he looks at him.

      Jongin looks down at his canvas and sighs. It’s supposed to be a floral landscape but somehow it has become a literal interpretation of flower boy Taemin. It’s been like this lately; Taemin seeping colors of sunrise into his broody aesthetic. _The feelings aren’t dying out._ No, they’re taking over everything and he definitely doesn’t like it. He guts the painting savagely with the blunt end of the paintbrush.

      Taemin looks up from his book, hair falling over his eyes. There is a question on his face. Jongin just shakes his head, crumpling up the paper and tossing it on the ground. Taemin isn’t convinced but he drags his eyes back to the book, a little pout forming on his mouth.  Jongin has been moody lately – more than usual, tensing up around him. Taemin knows it’s not because of the rumors they’re dating; Jongin shrugged when he first heard them. Taemin knows it’s not because of the spin-the-bottle kiss; Jongin leaned into it. When Taemin had asked about the distance between them, Jongin startled and mumbled about being nervous about his art installation at the Museum of Contemporary Art. It was a lie wrapped up in probable truth but Taemin didn’t insist.

      All Taemin knows is that Jongin is pushing him away but he can’t figure out why.

12am

      “Yah!” Jongin raises his voice, startling Taemin.

      Stifling a laugh, he scolds the older boy, “Pay attention when I’m talking.”

      “But you talk too long,” Taemin whines, dragging his eyes away from the plate of French fries in front of him. After a sigh, he asks Jongin if he’s going to finish them. Jongin pulls the plate closer to him.

      They are at chicken and beer restaurant three blocks away from Jongin’s studio - Taemin had insisted they take a break when Jongin gutted his third painting.

      “Anyways, the waitress doesn’t really like you,” Taemin says, picking up the conversation.  “She only likes the idea of you.” Their waitress has been especially attentive and Taemin is sure it has to do with Jongin.

      Jongin sneers loudly. “What do you know about that?”

      “She wouldn’t be the first girl to aspire to being your muse…” Taemin continues obliviously, pitch rising sharply, “…visions of immortality on the walls of the Museum of Contemporary Art. Little do they know that _I_ am _your_ muse.”

      There’s a twinkle in Taemin’s eye that makes Jongin nervous. _Does he know?_ _Or is he just teasing?_ Still, Jongin smirks and says, “You sure are cocky once you get a couple of drinks in you.”

      “What?” Taemin protests, “I’ve seen your drawings of me.”

      Jongin starts a retort about the drawings being self-portraits but is interrupted by the arrival of the banana flavored yogurt.

      “Yummy!” Taemin proclaims, he gulping one mini bottle down.

      Jongin feels ill watching Taemin. They have had two orders of spicy chicken and five beers. How much could one person really eat?

      “Eat slowly,” he warns, but Taemin continues guzzling the next bottle. “Yah!” Jongin shouts, taking the carton away. Taemin’s eyes follow the yogurt and when he reaches to take it back, Jongin holds it further away.

      Taemin protests loudly.

      “You’re going to be sick if you don’t eat slowly.”

      “Ok, ok!” Taemin settles into his seat anticipating the return of his yogurt.

      This time Taemin drinks slowly. Patting his head, Jongin tells Taemin what a good boy he is. Taemin swats at Jongin’s hand and growls at him. For the next three minutes Jongin amuses himself by dodging Taemin’s hand as the other tries to stop him patting his head.

      Somehow, they get on the topic of _Nacho Libre_ and Jongin says, as a matter of fact, that it isn’t a good movie.

      “What? You crazy!” Taemin says in the voice of the title character. He repeats it three times.

      Jongin rolls his eyes. Taemin isn’t good at impersonations.  “Yeah, I get it.”

      Taemin laughs till he hiccups. Then he laughs some more.

      “We should stop now. I don’t feel like carrying you home.” His fingers are starting to tingle, a tell-tale sign that he’s drunk. Taemin’s tell-tale sign is his impersonations.

      “Carry me?” Taemin scoffs. “I beat you in arm wrestling. How are you going to carry me?”

      The waitress brings their check and she looks a bit miffed when Taemin grabs at the check book. Taemin smirks when he sees a business card with a handwritten phone number on the back. He opens his wallet then slowly closes it. He turns to Jongin; lower lip protruding and eyes widening.

      Jongin looks obstinate.

      Taemin begins releasing a low, whimpering sound; and when Jongin hardens his stance, Taemin’s pout deepens, and his eyes become wet. He learned this trick from his roommate Jognhyun who seemed to always get his way with his best friend.

      “Fine,” Jongin acquiesces and the puppy face instantly disappears. “Yah,” Jongin complains, feeling duped.

      “Works every time on Kibum- _hyung_ as well,” Taemin boasts.

      Just as he had predicted, Jongin ends up having to carry Taemin – after losing in rock, paper, scissors. He struggles against the older boy’s weight and Taemin’s laughing doesn’t help. Jongin trips over a stone and they both tumble to the ground. He gets the worst of it trying to cushion Taemin’s fall.

      “Jongin-ah!” Taemin whines, spotting the bruises the younger boy tries to hide. “What do we do?” he whines again, sounding close to tears.

      “It’s not a big deal,” Jongin winces a little as he dusts off the tiny stone particles wedged in his palms.

      Taemin pats his head, “My brave boy.”  He smiles at Jongin and for a moment Jongin is disarmed.

      _Shit! It’s happening again._ Jongin is feeling disoriented. His rib cage is squeezing his lungs; his breath is coming up short. He finds himself leaning towards Taemin but stops when he realizes that he’s about to kiss him. To cover his embarrassment, he head butts the blond.

      “Ow!” Taemin rubs his forehead.

      “Can you walk?” Jongin asks, standing up.

      Taemin whines. He looks suspicious batting his lashes. Jongin’s mood is the best it has been in days and he wants to take advantage.

      “Aish!  Are you really the _hyung_?” Jongin complains. The age difference is small but they both use it when it’s convenient.

      Whether or not he ends up carrying Taemin, he doesn’t remember because out of the blue the older boy tells him that he looks good. For some reason, that means a lot to him.

 

3am

      Taemin’s body sighs into a more comfortable position. His knees touch Jongin’s, move away then return. They are in the vintage bath tub in the middle of Jongin’s art studio. It used to be a bathroom before the bungalow was renovated into small work spaces. Jongin liked the randomness of the tub and asked to keep it. Sometimes he sleeps in it when he works late.  Conversation seems to have run out but that’s fine because conversation isn’t always necessary between them. So they just stare at each other. They look like angst lovers on the cover of a music magazine.

      “Jongin-ah,” Taemin calls.

      “Hmm,” Jongin hums. He looks up from where their knees are touching and is nervous again; his stomach doing cartwheels just from the look in Taemin’s eyes.

      “You were going to kiss me earlier, weren’t you?”

      Jongin thinks about lying but this is Taemin, he would spot the lie. Besides, his cheeks have flushed a deep color, giving him away. “Shut up.”

      Taemin chuckles, brushing his fingers along Jongin’s calf and he doesn’t realize he’s getting a rise out of him.

      “Stop it,” Jongin says in a low, threatening voice.

      Taemin stops teasing him. He’s glad that Jongin isn’t pulling away from his touch.

      After a prolonged silence, Taemin asks, “Do you worry about the future?”

      Jongin looks at the older boy. He’s never heard Taemin sound unsure before; he’s always confident even when he’s completely off the mark.

      Taemin continues, “Well, you’re an art genius and you have the world at your feet -”

      “Basically,” Jongin interjects.

      Taemin narrows his eyes, “So modest.”

      “I’m just acknowledging your honesty. Some people like that about me,” Jongin smugly returns. He has succeeded, at least for a moment, to lighten to mood but Taemin’s brow furrows again.

      “I on the other hand…,” the older boy continues.

      Jongin reaches out to touch Taemin’s hand.“Is this about the audition?”

      Taemin is a dancer and has put in an application for a prestigious dance company that could catapult him onto the world stage. It’s a pretty big deal since dancing is all he ever wants to do.

      The lighting in the room is pretty horrible but Jongin sees the small nod. Jongin smiles; it seems that Taemin is human, after all.

      “You’ll do brilliantly,” Jongin encourages, words coming out just above a whisper.

      “How do you know? You haven’t come to see me practice in a long time,” Taemin pouts.

      Jongin feels guilty and it shows in his remark. “I know,” he rubs the back of his head.  “I’m sorry…I’m so behind since I’ve been distracted lately. So…I’ve been playing catch-up.” It is mostly true. He has been behind in his installation project, and he has been distracted. “But I wouldn’t miss the audition for the world.”

      “You better not,” Taemin threatens but he’s also smiling so it loses its effect. Before Jongin knows it, Taemin is snuggling on top of him. “Hmm, you smell nice.”

      Jongin panics. He’s trying to be calm with Taemin on top of him but it is so frustrating the way the older boy’s breath hits his collar bone. He has to do something. He is feeling things; things he doesn’t want to explain. “Taemin-ah,” he begins to protest but it comes out a moan as Taemin grinds his hips into Jongin’s.

      “You’re hard,” Taemin teases.

      Jongin is so embarrassed he looks away.

      “Hey,” Taemin brings Jongin gaze to his, leaning in to kiss him. Even if he wants to resist, Jongin finds himself yielding to the softness of Taemin’s lips against his; tilting his head to accommodate Taemin’s nose, parting his mouth to accommodate Taemin’s tongue. But just as it starts to feel wonderful beneath his _hyung_ , like his body is bursting into bloom, his lungs begin to burn, and tearing their lips apart he takes a breath.

      “Taemin -” he starts again but throws his head back when he feels the other palming his clothed erection. He closes his eyes and licks his lips, unable to suppress the tremor rolling over him. When he opens his eyes, he sees what he must look like in Taemin’s half-lidded gaze. The two of them are so similar it’s sometimes frightening.

      “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Taemin breathes, catching his own lip beneath his teeth as he watches expressions of pleasure play on the younger’s face. They will have to talk about this later; he will have to admit that he’s wanted Jongin for a long time and maybe Jongin will admit his feelings.  But for the moment, Taemin doesn’t want words, just moans and sighs.

      Jongin can’t take Taemin looking at him like that. It’s too intoxicating; like an alcohol buzz gone straight to the head. He brings Taemin down for a hard kiss, moaning into Taemin’s mouth, coming into his own boxers.

 

9am

      The longer Jongin looks at the painting the angrier he gets. He takes a deep breath, willing himself not cry, and counts backwards from ten. When he opens his eyes, he’s a little calmer. He can save the painting, he tells himself, if he just takes a breath. But breathing doesn’t come easily when all he can see is the look Taemin had when he was getting him off; the tenderness in Taemin’s eyes, the desire on Taemin’s lips. It’s all he’s been painting for five hours, sheets and sheets of the same intoxicating gaze.

      Jongin is so concentrated on not ripping the painting the apart, he doesn’t hear Taemin walk up behind him. So when the older boy’s arms wrap around him, he startles badly.  He drops the paint brush but luckily it doesn’t mark the painting. His jeans, though, didn’t escape. He curses under his breath. As he bends to pick up the fallen brush, he effectively comes out of Taemin’s embrace but as soon as he is upright, Taemin’s chin rests on his shoulders.

      “Is there anything you can’t do?” Taemin marvels at the lines of grey and red on the canvas.

      “I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jongin mumbles. Taemin almost doesn’t hear them. Almost. “And I’ve tried,” Jongin continues, barely managing to choke the emotions back.

      _Is that anger in his voice?_ Taemin wonders.

“It’s beautiful,” Taemin says.

      “It’s shit!” Jongin snaps, rolling his shoulders to get Taemin off him. It is passive aggressive and hurtful.

      Taemin sighs, affecting his _hyung_ voice, “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing,” Jongin grumbles. He hates Taemin’s _hyung_ voice.

      “It’s not nothing. You’ve been really shitty lately and I want to know why. Did I do something?”

      “Just leave it alone,” Jongin snarls. He can feel his anger rising in heat waves.

      Taemin starts to back down but then doesn’t. “Jongin-ah,” he says softly. “It’s me, Taemin. We’ve known each other for so long. There’s nothing you can hide from me. How long have we been friends?”

      “Whatever we are,” Jongin says in a low, chilly voice, “We are not just friends.”

      “Ok, fine. I like you,” Taemin admits, suddenly.

      Jongin isn’t looking at the older boy but he knows that there’s a look of expectation trained on him. He should feel happy – his best friend has just confessed to him – but somehow it feels as though his suffocation is now complete.

      “And what about you?” Taemin asks when Jongin doesn’t say anything.

      Jongin takes in a breath. “ _Hyung_ , I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

      _Again with the distance._ “What does that mean?” Taemin asks. His voice is hard but his face is wracked with nerves.

      “I am consumed by you and I hate it… I feel like I’m drowning. You make flowers grow in my lungs… and they’re beautiful but I can’t fucking breathe.”

      Taemin doesn’t understand what Jongin is saying so he doesn’t know what to feel. He just stands there looking at Jongin as if he’s has spoken a foreign language.

      “I think we should take a break.” Jongin says this so quietly that Taemin almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.

      “From what?”

      “From each other. I need time to find a way to love you without losing myself.”

…

5pm

 

      “ _Hyung_!” Jongin greets Taemin’s roommate with surprise. Even though they are friendly with each other, Jonghyun is the last person Jongin expects to see at his studio.

      Jonghyun doesn’t wait to be invited in; he pushes his way past Jongin with a determined look on his face. It isn’t a social visit so he gets straight to the point. “What are you doing?”

      “Huh?” Jongin looks down at the blue- haired boy in confusion.

      “Why is it that while you are busying smiling and having a good time, Taemin is miserable? I thought you were finding a way to love him without losing yourself?” He says the last with air quotes.

      It has been five weeks since that morning and Taemin and Jongin haven’t met since. It only got easier to leave it that when way Jongin saw his best friend smiling and laughing with other people – a far better sight than the one he left Jongin studio with. Jongin had smiled too. He had also painted pictures – not only of Taemin but of the night sky and the waitress from the chicken and beer restaurant. Taemin had been right about her.

      “You missed his audition,” Jonghyun says, his jaw set in a hard line.

      Jongin crumbles to the floor. He’s ashamed because it wasn’t that he had forgotten about the audition.

      “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch him waiting for you, hoping you’d show up?” Jonghyun continues.  “I only gave up on him because it was you - his best friend. Because you are the only who really gets him. Why is it that he cries himself to sleep every night?”

      The first thought that comes to Jongin’s mind is that he had been right about Jonghyun having feelings for Taemin. It had always been weird between the three of them in the beginning. But Taemin, either oblivious or considerate towards his roommate, always denied it. The second thought that comes to Jongin’s mind is the image of Taemin’s disappointed face every time he looks towards a door.

      Silent tears fall from Jongin face to his hands on his laps. Still, Jonghyung is looking at him expecting an answer. “I’m not leaving till you give me a good enough answer as to why I shouldn’t punch you in the face.”

      Jongin stands and steps forward to be hit. “I don’t have a good answer,” he says quietly.

      Jonghyun is flustered when Jongin steps up to him and he almost does hit him.

      “Look,” Jongin points to the easel.

      Jonghyun steps around to look at the canvas. It’s an unfinished black and white painting of Taemin with dark hair and haunting eyes. “Ok,” he shrugs, unaffected. “It’s Taemin. What of it?”

      Jongin chuckles mirthfully. What does it mean that in an attempt to reveal himself people see Taemin?  “It’s supposed to be a self portrait.”

      “Oh!” is all Jonghyun can say. He inspects the painting again and this time sees Jongin. While it’s true that the two friends looked a lot alike, maybe even identical from certain angles, they have always been distinguishable. Jongin is taller, Taemin is slimmer.  It frustrated Jongin to no end that people found them interchangeable.

      “ _Hyung_ ,” Jongin calls.

      Jonghyun looks up because he thinks he hears tears in Jongin’s voice.

      “I don’t know what to do. This thing…this preoccupation with Taemin is just not going away.”

      Jonghyun understands Jongin because he’s been there. He’s been caught staring at Taemin with a look that’s half love, half sadness. But while he is happy to lose himself in love, Jongin is the kind that believes in whole, complete selves loving other whole, complete selves.

      “I don’t know what to tell you,” Jonghyun says after they have been stewing in silence for five minutes. “But you should know that he leaves for New York tonight.”

      Jonghyun isn’t expecting it and so is confused when Jongin smiles.

      “He passed the audition?”

      Jonghyun nods, “He passed the audition.”

 

7pm

      Taemin doesn’t want to see Jongin. Well, he does want to see him but he also doesn’t want to see him; so he slams the door in his face. Actually, what he doesn’t want is for Jongin to see how much he’s missed him, how much he’s going to miss him. Maybe he’s even afraid that Jongin’s presence might cause him to change his mind about going to New York, and if he’s honest he had hesitated applying for the audition in the first place because he didn’t want to leave Jongin behind. The ‘breakup’ had made accepting the offer easier.

      “Can we please talk?” Jongin voice carries through the oak door.

      “Talk!” Taemin replies.

      There is a pause in which Jongin sighs. “Taemin, I’m sorry. I was stupid but really I was scared.” He pauses hoping the door will open but it remains shut. “I had never felt this way before and I didn’t know what to do. Can you please open the door? I don’t want to talk to you like this.”

      It takes a while but the lock clicks and the door swings in. Jongin has a sheepish grin on his face and Taemin has to catch the smile automatically curving on his lips.

      “Hi!” Jongin says and Taemin bites his lower lip to keep from smiling.

      Taemin leads Jongin into the living room where his suitcases are lined up against the wall. He catches the look in Jongin’s eye and can’t continue to be angry. He hates Jongin for only just showing up, for wasting precious days they could have spent together, but he can’t continue being angry.

      “You could have talked me, you know,” Taemin says softly.  “We could have figured something out.”

      Jongin is staring at the suitcases.

      “Jonginnie,” Taemin’s voice pulls the younger boy’s gaze to him.

      Jongin smiles, eyes brimming with tears. He still hasn’t figured out a way to love Taemin without losing himself but it seems he will have more time in which to do so. “Congratulations. I knew you’d make it.”

      Taemin wants to say something but Jongin thrusts the gift he has been holding in the older boy’s face. From the dimensions Taemin knows it’s a painting. He unwraps the brown paper and frowns a little.

      “Jongin-ah,” he hesitates. “It’s beautiful…but why have you given me a painting of you?”

      Jongin’s tight smile loosens, spreads and reaches his eyes. Despite their similarities, despite his fears that he was morphing into the older boy, how could he have thought that he’d lose himself when Taemin was there to remind him who he was.

      “To remember me by,” Jongin smarts.


End file.
